


Red of Rivendell

by Fantasy_Is_My_Reality



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Fluff and Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-12 03:21:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11153184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fantasy_Is_My_Reality/pseuds/Fantasy_Is_My_Reality
Summary: A story about a little incident in Rivendell with Aragorn, involving wine and pranks.





	Red of Rivendell

Aragorn, son of Arathorn, was but a child to the eyes of an elf at the mere age of thirty-four when he had his first taste of wine.

It wasn’t his idea to get drunk really, it was more of his foster brothers’, Elladan and Elrohir, who were less wise and home more often back then. But, it was definitely not something he would forget for a while.

It was the Elvish New Year, where all the elves gathered to feast and drink neath the blanket of shining stars. As most folks know, elven wine was more potent to Men than most others, but Estel, as was his name back then, did not know. 

Just in luck, the twins had returned from tracking several orc packs backs across the valley and journeyed back to Rivendell in high spirits in time for one of the biggest festivals they’ve had in at least a century, for Gandalf, one of the five wizards who had arrived a few days earlier with his famous fireworks.

Lines of blooming flowers were draped about the open square, bright lights visible at every corner. Fireworks of all the colors one could imagine lit up the sky with beauty and activity. The sweet sound of laughter, singing, and silken voices could be heard throughout the Last Homely House. Estel, who did not usually attend these parties could be seen sitting alone on a bench, observing the merrymaking around him with a small smile curving his face. His two brothers had come in formal robes worn for festivals and plastered themselves one to each side of the man. 

Knowing they were probably not here to just converse, he sighed. “Elladan, Elrohir, have you any business with me?”

They shared a knowing look behind his back.

“Yes brother, since you have come of age in the eyes of a human, we thought you would like to try some of the best wine in Rivendell,” Elladan said, while Elrohir placed an intricately carved silver goblet into his hands, a deep crimson liquid sloshing inside. 

It smelled strongly of fruit and had an intoxicating scent that drew most drinkers, but he never had an interest in becoming drunk, especially not there and now.

Yes, it was the best wine in the region, loved by all elves, but if one drank too much or any other person with a low alcohol tolerance, then they could be intoxicated for days on end and end up with a massive hangover that some described as “splitting your skull open”. It was definitely not designed to be consumed by anyone without Elven blood, for it was powerful even to elves who had a much higher tolerance rate than any other race. 

Even without knowing any of this, the future king was still suspicious of his older siblings, for they had pulled many tricks on him in the past, involving food and drink and other mischiefs. 

Once as a child they had lied to him about rosy berries in the garden, saying they would be delicious once he tasted them, but instead it had stained his mouth and fingers and face with a dull green and extremely noticeable juice for four days and had tasted worse than mud from a marsh. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the only time he had been a victim of their deceit, and over time, he had learned to avoid most of their gimmicks, though occasionally one would slip through his defenses. 

This was one of those instances.

“Are you sure brother?” Elladan insisted.

“Yes Elladan, I’m quite certain,” Aragorn sighed, resisting the urge to walk away to stay with more desirable company. 

Still not discouraged, Elrohir shoved the lip of the cup to Estel’s lips, prompting him for a sip. 

“What, too cowardly to try some? Can you not handle it?” He mocked. “Elladan! Estel can’t even handle a bit of wine! Even elleth younger than him can drink more than he!” 

Just to make them go away, he downed the entire cup in one gulp and slammed the goblet down.

“There brothers! Satisfied now?” Aragorn spat at them. In reality, it stung the back of his throat like smoldering fire, but he managed to keep it to himself. 

Though it does not take hold immediately, it usually does in a couple minutes for weaker systems. 

Fuming, Estel left the twins and threaded through the dancing crowd, feeling slightly light-headed as a fuzziness wrapped around his mind. He sat down with a groan, knowing he would probably soon be intoxicated. 

“Stupid Elladan and Elrohir,” Aragorn grumbled under his breath, massaging his temple. 

It didn’t take long for all reason the reason to leave him. Completely unconscious of his actions now, he drunkenly strode onto a mostly unoccupied table, drawing the attention of his elven friends. 

The man flung off his tunic and shirt into some unfortunate elf’s face and proceeded to dance and sing horribly on the table, stomping loudly in the process. By then, a lot of the ellons and elleth were inebriated as well, and joined him, though much more gracefully. 

All of this was witnessed by Elladan and Elrohir, who sat in the shadows in absolute hysterics. 

The rest of the night whizzed by in a flurry of chaos and noise. 

***

The next morning, a thin stream of sunlight rested on his face, but instead it felt like someone was shining a light directly into his eyes and pounding on his skull. Moaning, Aragorn rolled over just in the nick of time and emptied the contents of his stomach onto the floor. 

Elrond is going to kill me. He thought despairingly. 

“What, couldn’t handle a little bit of wine, brother?” The voice was seemingly too loud and all it served to do was make his migraine worse.

“W-what happened?” Was all he managed to get out before retching again, and the two brothers jumped back to avoid it. 

“Well for starters Estel, you jumped on a table half naked and sang in the most off- tune voice I have ever been unfortunate to hear, and not to mention what you did afterward,” one of them replied, smirking. 

“W-what? What do you mean?” The human was beginning to be increasingly worried by the second, and sweat was starting to form on his brow. “What did I do?” 

They looked at each other than at Aragorn, and burst into laughter that resounded through his skull. 

Elladan was rolling on the floor (Avoiding his vomit of course), and Elrohir was bent over so that his hair touched the ground. It took five minutes for them to finally calm down. 

“Should we tell him?” Elrohir turned towards his brother, wiping tears out of his eyes. 

“Tell me what?” His eyes narrowed at them, feeling anger slowly bubble to the surface. “What did I do?” 

“Alright fine, calm down!” Elladan was growing red again, trying to suppress his smile. 

“Y-you kissed Lindir!” Both of them lost it at the same time, resuming their earlier positions on the ground.

“In front of father too!” One of them in between breaths. “And Gandalf the Gray!”

The soon-to-be-Ranger paled, all the color draining from his face like water in a drain, and a look of sheer horror twisted across his features. Could it get any worse?

“A-and then y-you stripped naked and ran around the fountain!” Their howling increased in volume and for a moment Estel was worried that they might pop a vein or destroy something (Mostly likely his alcohol-induced brain and eardrums) in their mirth. 

Lifting up his covers to check the truth behind that statement, he was horrified to find that they were. He was as naked as an underground mole rat, and the soles of his feet were slightly scratched and scarred. His clothes were nowhere in sight, and neither were his shoes.

“Did I do anything else?” He asked shakily, feeling faint. 

“Luckily no, or else Ada would have skinned you and fed you to the orcs!” 

After a while of more teasing, they finally let him get some rest, though he still felt the aftermath of the drink in his head. 

He recovered in a couple of days, swearing by then never to drink again or to be victim to another one of their pranks. (Though neither of those promises lasted too long.) It took him quite a few days to finally find and apologize to the minstrel, as Lindir was undoubtedly avoiding him after the accident. 

The poor elf had flushed a bright berry red and refused to make eye contact, squeaking a quiet “It’s okay!” and making an excuse to hurry off to some errand or another. 

The other elves didn’t forget his performance either. It took a few months for him to be able to stroll by without initiating snickers or giggles. 

He would definitely be getting those two back for this.


End file.
